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As a courier, Backdrop had the handy little ability to know a lot of shortcuts all over Cybertron. It also helped that, in a previous life, he knew Nyon like the back of his (former) hand. So, getting to the Rust Narrows very quickly and between assignments was hardly an issue at all. Backdrop has, however, seen better days. One shoulder is covered in neat patchwork and the wrist on the same side had a medical discharge bracelet. Oh, dear. Looks like SOMEthing went down. The petite little courier looks around, hoping to find someone Very Specific. Follow the trail of complaints: "--just raced through like a bunch of hoodlums." "Don't know what they think they are doing." "--completely reckless!" "Dangerous!" Yet despite the complaints, there's little damage left from the apparently high-speed passage of Hot Rod and his merry miscreants. By the time Backdrop follows the clues to find them, it's just Hot Rod left standing alone overlooking a sunken road that dips beneath the city's surface and looking conspicuously innocent. For a moment, Backdrop just stares at the massive pothole. Then, he walks up to Hot Rod and... Pokes him in the back. "Uhm, hi. It's me. Hi. Can I talk to you?" Hot Rod pivots with a gaze leveled about two Backdrops in the air. NOPE. His gaze drops on meeting empty space to meet the poke with a wide grin. "Backdrop! Where've you been? How's the frame upgrade?" It's then that he notes the patchwork and the bracelet and his expression turns a touch troubled. "Running into trouble? Or just running around, period, after being cooped up so long?" The warm welcome leaves little doubt that Backdrop's welcome to talk ... if he can find room between the questions that Hot Rod drops all over the place. A slightly annoyed frown crosses Backdrop's face at the barrage of questions that probably don't really need an answer. "I was robbed. They took my ID. I'm pretty sure I can't just ask the government go give me a copy of my ID." Hot Rod's face falls. "Scrap. Moonlight got you set up, right? She'll help you get another one, I'm sure. Who robbed you?" he asks with a fairly obvious defensive prickle on Backdrop's behalf. A slight shrug. "I went to make a delivery, next thing I know these guys from the racetrack said I stole something from the box. Took my ID. Don't even know what they're gonna do with it." "Me either." Hot Rod looks slightly baffled. "What do you do with an ID? It's not like pretending to pass at you will really get them far. Uh, no offense," he says with a lift of his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Could you find them again, bring some friends -- or would that make more trouble for you at your job than it's worth?" "...Probably more trouble than it's worth. I think these guys were... Super high end criminal guys." Backdrop shrugs again. "They said something called 'syk' was missing and that it was worth a LOT of shanix. They were part of the Ibex race track, I think." Hot Rod's expression hardens. "Syk dealers, huh?" He vents hard and gives Backdrop a long look. "Those kind of people are some of the worst. If you want to get your ID back, I'll help you. But I also won't go after them if you say it's not worth it. I don't want them to come back after you." In this particular case, some combination of Backdrop (nee YX-939) and Ibex has him showing a /little/ more caution than his usual. For some reason. SOME CRAZY REASON. There's a breath of relief from Backdrop. "Oh, good. Because I REALLY don't want whoever runs these guys to want to murder me. They already said they wanted me to pay them back more money than Primus, but my ID had the address of a mailbox..." The note of relief provokes a faint, crooked smirk. Hot Rod gives a short nod. "Good. So you're okay if they go looking. I'll let Moonlight know to talk to you about getting another ID set up. You might want to talk to your boss just in case they come back to the courier service trying to find their syk." "Yeah, that." Backdrop does not look forward to telling his new boss what had happened. "The hospital wanted my ID, too, but since I was robbed, they gave me a while to get the copies, and that's pretty much why I'm here..." Hot Rod's smirk tightens as he says, "Hope you were awake the whole time they were treating you." It sounds like a crazy mech's concerns, but /all things considered/, is it really so crazy? IS IT? "I was, actually." Backdrop actually looks a little... Embarrassed? "I learned that I'm allergic to some forms of acid. I just got a few drops on me, but once I was injected with... Allergy stuff..." He blanks a little. "...It had a name but I don't remember what it was, but the hospital people were nice." Hot Rod looks SUSPICIOUS. Then he looks a little embarrassed himself. "I can't believe that sounds suspicious. But. The IAA was using injections to control Blurr and-- ugh." He drops his head into his hands with a muted clank of metal on metal. "I'm glad they were nice," he says, slightly muffled. Backdrop still look a bit embarrassed. "...They gave me a mini cube that tasted nice and a sticker with a smiley face on it." "Clearly they were just trying to allay suspicion with kindness," Hot Rod teases. Mostly teases. Okay, like -- half-teases. "No one gives /me/ stickers. Maybe I should repaint." He give Backdrop a thoughtful once-over. No. He can't pull that off. A small smile crosses Backdrop's face. "All you need to do is get robbed by a crazy person and you get stickers at a hospital. Easy peasy." Hot Rod laughs with a quick shake of his head. "I'll pass." He gives Backdrop a once over and asks, "You're okay, though? We've still gotta run you through your paces. Have you really had a chance to open up and test out everything you can do? I haven't forgotten about the promise to show you my tricks!" Like his tricks are that great. "I've been... Really busy." Backdrop lets out a breath; the smile fades. "Being a courier is hard work. And then Swivel left, so I can't even ask her for any advice or tips or anything..." He does perk up a little. "I'd like to learn those tricks, though." When Backdrop perks up, Hot Rod grins. "Any time. I used to run courier jobs, too," he adds, /almost/ sympathetic in the nod of his head. He's totally understanding -- but he can't help but make it a /little/ bit about him. "You know, before everyone stopped hiring me." And he turned to a LIFE OF CRIME. "Why'd Swivel leave? She's okay?" "I think so." Backdrop frowns. "...She went and joined an Ibex stunt team to get close to Blurr. I think she likes him. Like... LIKE him like him." "SHE DID WHAT," says Hot Rod. At volume. The yell is what startles Backdrop; he jumps a little at it, looking up in surprise. "...Yeah. Yeah, she's a stunt bot now." A sigh. "I thought about trying to do the same thing, but I don't think I'd make a very good race bot or stunt guy." When Backdrop jumps, Hot Rod gestures apology, but he looks somewhere between confused and pissed. At least he manages to get his volume back to normal when he says, "I'm not -- yelling at you, but /why/ would she /do/ that. That's scrap! She saw everything that Ibex is capable of! She saw what they did to you guys! What they did to Blurr! If she wanted to race, there are plenty of ways to get into that don't involve /evil slaggers/ who take /good people/ and /mess them up/ in the name of /shanix/." There's a long moment of silence from Backdrop. He stares at Hot Rod with wide optics. "...She..." That's slow and eventual. "...She said she wanted to make friends with Blurr. I think it's more than that, but... Yeah." "Ugh." Hot Rod glances off in the distance like he's thinking VERY HARD about CRACKING OPEN HIS RADIO /right now/ and yelling for Swivel. "That's scrap," he finally says, winding down from whatever else he might say to huff that in brief dismissal. "Yeah..." Backdrop slumps a little. "So... Yeah. I'm on my own. Need a new ID. Might have crazy people coming after me. Pretty much sums up the past week." "You know, some people have bad weeks, but you have like--." Breaking off, Hot Rod gestures. Little troubles. Then he throws his arms wide. Backdrop-sized troubles. "You remind me of Jackpot. Like backwards Jackpot." There's a blink. "Who's Jackpot?" "I guess you never saw him, huh?" Hot Rod tips a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the Acropolex somewhere behind his spoiler. "Black and yellow? One of us, puts bets on everything, wins way more of them than you'd think. Anyway, he's got /good/ luck. You've got -- I don't know, mech. You don't do things by halves." "Black and yellow gambler --" Backdrop's optics suddenly shoot full wide. "Orange visor? Grill chest going on?" Hot Rod brightens. "Yeah! I guess you did see him, then. He's like--" He gestures, high. "You're like--." He drops his hand. That' not insulting, is it? Backdrop just stares at Hot Rod. "His name is Jackpot?! That's the jerk that robbed Swivel of her work stuff and got her put on probation! That's one of the reasons why she quit the courier service in the first place! They had to move THE ENTIRE OFFICE!" Hot Rod looks gently skeptical. "Jackpot wouldn't steal from someone who needed it," he insists. It's not that Jackpot wouldn't steal. He doesn't even slightly doubt that. But that he'd target Swivel -- /there/ he hesitates. "Are you sure it's the same guy?" Adding a couple more of Jackpot's defining features, he waits expectantly for Backdrop to go 'oh no that was some other guy'. "That is THE EXACT GUY." Backdrop sputters. "We were playing cards at the bar... Place... Maccy-something. I forgot exactly the name, but we were playing cards and he got close and pick-pocketed Swivel! I had to leave right after, so I think that's why I wasn't robbed, too..." "Oh." Hot Rod looks /so disappointed/. "I'll ... ugh, I guess I'll talk to him. We don't--." He breaks off with a shake of his head and repeats, with some heat, "We don't steal from people who need it! Look -- I guess I won't ask you not to tell Swivel, but. Let her know I'll get her stuff back, okay?" "Little late, now..." Backdrop sighs. "Swivel says he got just one datapad that had all the courier stuff on it. The important courier stuff. Steamcore was SO MAD. I heard him yelling from outside the building, that's how mad he was." Hot Rod siiIIIiiiIIIIIIIIiiiighs. "I'll still talk to him. That's just against /everything/ we're supposed to be doing." There's only a little shrug from Backdrop. "At least we figured out who took the datapad. It's been bugging us ever since it happened." "Surprise." Hot Rod holds his hands up and out all 'tada'. "It was us. Apparently." Dropping his hands, he glances back toward the sunken road and then over at Backdrop again. "I should go catch up to the others before too much longer. Glad you're doing okay. What about the rest of you, the other--s?" He pluralizes an edit rather than say anything with YX in it out loud, BECAUSE YOU NEVER KNOW WHO IS LISTENING. The question is met with a helpless shrug. "It's hard to keep in contact with them. But as far as I know, everyone else is okay. They're all probably doing better than I am, actually. Less deadly encounters with crazy people, I imagine." A strained smile. "I heard Shutter and Lens got work with a news organization as camera bots, though. Not sure which one. They sounded happy." Hot Rod's expression eases into something like relief. His smile is small, slight, but genuine and without the strain that colors Backdrop's. "Good. Let me know if you need anything, okay? We might not have much, but I'll still try to help when I can."